


Painted Smiles

by thisbluespirit



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: 5 Times, 500 prompts, Community: 100fandoms, Ficlet, Gen, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 17:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19856467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluespirit/pseuds/thisbluespirit
Summary: Five times Servalan smiled and someone died.





	Painted Smiles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sallymn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallymn/gifts).



> Written for sallymn in the [500 Prompts Meme](http://lost-spook.dreamwidth.org/291842.html): #80 – Beneath the smiles – Servalan (B7) and for 100fandoms prompt #29 "mask."

**i. Evil Intent**

“Thank you, Supreme Commander,” the Tahlien Ambassador said. “You’ve been most accommodating over our delayed response to the Federation’s offer. I’m sure, given these extra months, I can persuade the Council that entering into an agreement with the Federation is the safest forward policy.”

Servalan smiled, inclining her head briefly in assent, and watched him make his exit, before pressing a button on the desk comm. “Lieutenant. The ambassador is leaving us. See that he –” She paused and gave another smile, a wider one this time, as she contemplated the man’s short and unpleasant immediate future – “goes out in style. You understand me, I’m sure.”

She released the transmit button and rose from the desk, still smiling, the train of her blindingly white dress trailing out behind her across the equally white metal floor of her office on the space station. “Perhaps you _could_ have persuaded them,” she said, glancing back at the door, “but my way is so much quicker.”

* * *

**ii. Pain**

“I’m fine,” Servalan said to her commanding officer, Captain Alross, when he glanced across at her with a frown. She gave him her best smile to prove the truth of her lie, and breathed out in relief as he lost interest, marching on ahead. Then she had to bite down on the pain that stabbed through her as she took a step forward, wincing despite her best efforts. She clenched her fists; the knuckles strained white. 

She had only recently been transferred to this unit and she planned to rise to the top of it in the shortest time possible. One didn’t do that by making a fool of oneself over a minor injury, so she wasn’t prepared to show any weakness that wasn’t useful in some way. If she had to ignore the agony of the laser burn to her leg while the corps marched back to base, that was what she would do. Back in her quarters, she could sort herself out with a medkit. She could make it. Someone of her rank wouldn’t have to put up with this sort of thing for long.

She comforted herself that at least she’d got the rebel who’d shot her. They would never do that – or anything else – again.

* * *

**iii. Evil Intent**

“I cannot have heard you correctly,” said Servalan, looking up from her desk. “Did you say that you lost the Liberator crew? Tell me, Frein, how precisely does one _lose_ three restrained prisoners?”

The trooper opened and shut his mouth, and then settled on silence.

Servalan smiled. “You’re young, of course,” she said. “Inexperienced. We all make mistakes. What a pity it is that you won’t live to learn from yours.”

“Supreme commander.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, still smiling, her voice level and reasonable, “but your role here is to be an example to others. You see, they _will_ learn from your mistakes.”

She raised the gun she’d been holding under the table and fired.

* * *

**iv. loss**

It wasn’t that Servalan hadn’t lost many things over the years. It wasn’t even that she didn’t permit herself something like regret for some of them. She knew what she had paid to be where she was, but she counted her gains as worth the cost. She looked back clear-eyed at her choices, and would make them all again if she had to.

As a cadet, she’d lost her last friend – after that friends were too great a luxury. Enemies were so much more reliable. She’d lost lovers, and, yes, she’d had those too; perhaps one or two even worthy of the name in the early days. 

She’d lost any innocence she’d ever had much too long ago to remember. That particular quality was worthless anyhow. 

Now she’d lost what she’d gained, tumbling down after a galactic war and a gambit too far. She’d lost the Liberator, lost her position, lost her name.

Yet still she smiled and kept the loss walled away behind its brittle front, as she plotted to win back what was hers. More besides, if she had her way – and she would.

* * *

**v. victory**

Servalan fixed her attention on the vidscreen.

“You have Blake?” she said. “And Avon?”

The Space Captain on the other end nodded. “Yes, Commander Sleer. All of them. We’re still combing the area for their ship and Orac, but we’ll find them. The rest of them are dead. The whole Gauda Prime thing worked like a charm.”

She’d won. Servalan switched off the screen and rose to her feet, pacing up and down, silver threads in her long black dress catching the light. She’d won.

“What now, I wonder?” she murmured, her smile almost fading as she gazed out into space; the stars against the darkness of space an echo of her dress.

The moment passed, and she laughed aloud. She’d enjoy her victory if it killed her. And maybe, she thought, with another faraway look in her eyes, somewhere behind that smile, maybe it would.


End file.
